England's Tattoo
by Fuji-Kumori
Summary: Warnings: I Don't Own Hetalia. OOC, maybe. Sexual Harassment. Running late to a meeting, England is unable to tuck in his shirt, as like he always does, and his lower back his shown to all he other nations.


**AN:**

A lot of swearing is in this story, potty-mouth England~ And sexual harassment. And most likely OOC.

Xx

**England's Tattoo**

People from outside the room, that were able to hear those…_noises_, they would have suspected a…sexual intercourse was happening. But, all that was happening is a panicked England, rushing to get ready to change. "Oh, _fuck_!" He cursed to himself, as he pulled on his undershirt. "Dammit…" He buttoned up his shirt and tied his tie.

He was in his hotel room, which was located in New York City, New York, the meeting had been held in America. For the next meeting, it was his turn. "Urgh…ngh!" He grunted, pulling on his Green pants. '_Blast it all! I don't have enough time to tuck in my bloody shirt! Ugh, hopefully, they won't see it._' He buttoned his pants and slipped his belt through the loops and buckled it. '_I only have 10 minutes to make the meeting on time, and I'm on the fifth floor, and the meeting is on the bloody first!_' He ran out the door, grabbing his jacket on the coat racket.

He hadn't bothered to lock it, because he knew that this hotel's door locked on it's own. He didn't bother to check for his card because to the nations, locking yourself out of your room isn't _nearly_ as embarrassing as showing up late to a meeting, unless your France, it's just _as_ bad. But he didn't care about that bloody frog, he always mocks him anyway.

'_I won't have enough time to take the blasted elevator, I must take the stairs._' He opened the door to the stair way and quickly ran down the stairs, also watching his footing so we wouldn't trip down it.

"Oh bloody hell!" He exclaimed as he looked the time on his phone. '_Six minutes left!_' He glanced at the floor number, seeing that it was only floor three. He started skipping a few steps and tried to run faster down the stairs, without tripping.

"Urgh! _Fuck!_" He had almost tripped down the stairs, but he had lost his footing though. '_Good thing this is finally the first floor…_'

He checked the time seeing that he only had two minutes. He slammed the exit to stairwell open and head toward the large, Brown doors that led into the meeting room. He busted into the room, huffing and puffing, trying to regain his breath.

"Ah, England," Ludwig who is known as Germany, noted his presence and motioned him to sit down at his seat. "You're here, later than usual, but on time."

He nodded at looked towards his seat which was in between the frog and his ex-brother. '_Great, even_ Alfred_ got here before me._'

"Hey England!" America greeted him with a wave.

"Urgh, hello America." He replied.

"Hon hon hon! What is this? England, the _prim_, late? Is it possible that you overslept, dreaming about your precious-"

"Shut up, frog face!" He yelled, a light red covering his cheeks. '_Was not…_'

"Both of you shut up and behave!" Germany shouted. "I call this meeting to start! Canada, start it off! America, you're next, make sure you're ready!"

"Sir, yes, sir~!" He mocked, as he saluted, successfully knocking over his paper onto the ground, onto the other side of England. "Oh shit!" He mumbled. "Err, England…"

"What?" He asked, still taking notes.

"Can you get my papers for me?"

"…S-" '_Wait, if I did that, then I'd have to bend up, which would most likely show my back, that's no good. And I can't _ever_ let anyone see this!_' "No." He then proceeded to continue taking notes.

"Ah, come one! Please?"

'_Please? He's never said that to me in awhile._' "No America."

"Come one! I said please! Pleeeaaaase pick it up for me!" He whined.

"No means no, America."

"PLLLEEEAAASE!"

"No means no!"

"England, just pick it up for him so he would stop his whining."

"Alright…" He mumbled. '_Now how do I pick it up without him seeing it? Guess I'll just hold onto my shirt._' He looked down towards his left to see the papers scattered about, just slightly. He grabbed onto the hem on the back of shirt with his right hand. He used his left hand to pick up the dropped papers.

"Did yah get all of it yet?" America asked him, as he looked over to England. When he did, he had seen that England's shirt had rode up a little due to him bending down. It looked like it was a futile attempt to cover something up on his back, but he still had seen anyways. What he had seen was something that he never even thought of doing. "Hey England, is that a tattoo?!"

"_What?!_" He exclaimed, with a blush staining his cheek as he straightened up.

'Dammit_ Alfred…_' He cursed him, hearing that the whole room was now talking about him and his tattoo, that he wanted to hide. And this is why England always chose to tuck in his shirt!

"I-It's not a tattoo!" He stuttered nervously, as he pulled down his shirt with both hands

"I wanna see it!" America exclaimed, completely ignoring what he had said. He wasn't going to show it to anyone, no matter who wanted to see it, but of course, the younger nation had his own ways. England, Arthur Kirkland, had been pulled by America, Alfred F. Jones, onto his lap.

"What are you doing?!" He shouted, with his blush turning darker as he thrashed about in the younger nation's lap.

"I wanna see your tattoo!" He pulled off his 'brother's' belt and jacket, and dropped it onto the floor. He pulled up the buttoned-up shirt, causing it to unbutton by itself. "Dude! It's huge!"* He exclaimed, as he kept peeling off his shirt, to view the whole thing, which was still obscured by the helpless nation's pants. Wanting to see the whole thing, America had grasped onto the hem of his pants and undergarments and pulled it down, showing off two big, pale, moons. Which gained a shriek of embarrassment from the vulnerable nation.

"What are you fucking doing, Alfred?! Unhand me this instance! I call this sexual harassment!"

Ignoring whatever he had said, America shouted out, "Guys look! It's a tattoo of a guitar!"

America was right, it is a tattoo of a guitar. It was from his right shoulder to his left cheek. It was a Black, six-stringed electrical guitar with a red flame on it. The Black head of the guitar was at his shoulder while the Black and Red body was at his lower back and left cheek, while the Black neck was in between both parts.

"Whoa, Really?!" North Italy shouted. "I wanna see! I wanna see!"

"NO! Now unhand me!" He shouted.

Germany, who was right across from then, had also seen England's 'unexpected' tattoo. "Wow, who ever thought that England would have a tattoo?" He muttered.

"I know right?" Austria agreed. "Considering how much of a prim he is."

"Err, yeah…" He said, in a monotone voice, considering Austria was the same.

"That's a nice guitar~!" Italy said cheerfully.

"Hey England, why do you have a tattoo of an electric guitar all over your back?" America asked, as he used his hand to gently brush over the tattoo, causing shivers to go up the Englishman's spine.

"Nngh! S-stop it." His cheeks burned red with both embarrassment and arousal.

"Why? Does this tickle?" He teased, brushing over the tattoo again and stopped to repeatedly brush over the nation's pale moons.

"Y-yes, n-now s-stop it!" He stuttered as his blush became darker. He slowly grew hard, making the material around his lower regions slowly become uncomfortable.

He then smirked in a matter that would only bring bad things. He leaned down to his ear and whispered in a husky voice, "You sure you want me to stop? Seems like your enjoying this."

"I-I'm n-not, you b-bloody g-git!" He shivered again under the younger nation's rub on his pale cheeks.

"Oh? Then this thing I feel, it's not a hard-on then?" He asked slyly, as he moved his thigh against the hard member. All jaws had dropped, with the exception of France and Canada, who had seen this coming, when they had heard what America had said.

"I-It's not what you t-think. I-I'm just-"

"Are you sure? Don't you want me to-"

"Meeting adjourned!" Germany yelled, with a dark blush on his face, refusing to hear the end of his sentence.

The older nation of the two blondes looked away shyly, subtly nodding only so his ex-colony would know.

The younger blonde smirked excitedly, unable to hold his excitement for when they returned home.

xx

*-That's what she said =3 I'm sorry! I just HAD to say it.


End file.
